Emilia's POV:

I lay in the sterile hospital bed, the white sheets crinkling beneath me with every small movement I made. My body felt like it belonged to someone else—heavy, achy, disconnected. The dull throb of pain in my leg, still trapped in the cast, was constant, and the headache from my concussion had yet to fully fade. The world felt like a blur—an overwhelming swirl of sounds, smells, and emotions that I couldn't quite process all at once.

Matteo was sitting beside me, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on the armrest of the chair. I could hear his breathing, steady and calm, as he waited for the doctor to come in with the final decision.

Luca and Raffaele were in the corner, their eyes flicking to me every few moments, checking on me like I might break at any second. Their concern for me was palpable. It hung in the air between us like a blanket, a soft, comforting thing, but it also felt heavy. The weight of it pressing against me made my chest tighten in ways I didn't know how to explain. I wanted to be okay for them. I wanted to make them proud, but the truth was, I didn't know how.

The door opened quietly, and the doctor stepped inside, clipboard in hand. She was a woman in her mid-forties, with kind eyes that softened when she saw me. Her lab coat was pristine, and her short brown hair framed her face in a way that made her seem approachable. Despite the pain that still lingered in my body, something about her calm demeanor eased a little of the tension in my chest.

"Good morning, Emilia," she said with a gentle smile, her voice kind and professional. "How are you feeling today?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to answer. My mind was still foggy, and every movement in my body felt too sharp. But I knew I had to answer. I had to show them that I was trying, that I wasn't completely lost.

"I'm... okay," I whispered, the words barely leaving my lips.

She nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard. "Your vitals are stable, and your leg seems to be healing well. The concussion is also showing signs of improvement, though I'd advise you to take it easy for a while. We've run the tests, and everything seems to be in order. However, you'll need to follow up with an outpatient doctor once you get home for your recovery."

My heart leapt in my chest at the mention of home. The thought of going back—of finally stepping out of this place—made something stir in my chest. I was so tired of the sterile, cold walls of the hospital. But a part of me was scared. What if I wasn't ready? What if everything fell apart once I left the safety of the doctors' hands?

"You can go home today, Emilia," the doctor continued, as if reading my thoughts. "But I want to remind you to take things slow. Your brothers will help you with that, I'm sure."

At the mention of my brothers, I looked over at them. Matteo's eyes softened with a look I couldn't quite place, while Luca gave me a small nod of reassurance. Raffaele, standing near the window, had a slight smile on his lips, though I could tell he was trying to contain his worry. Their concern for me was always so visible. It was both comforting and overwhelming.

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice quiet.

The doctor smiled warmly at me before turning to my brothers. "I'm sure you're all ready to take her home. Just make sure she doesn't overdo it. If anything feels wrong, don't hesitate to bring her back."

"We'll take care of her," Matteo assured the doctor. His voice was firm, confident, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me at his words.

With one last smile, the doctor nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her. The silence that followed felt oddly comforting, like the calm before the storm.

Raffaele was the first to speak, his voice light and teasing, though I could hear the nervousness behind it. "Alright, so we're going home. But you need something to wear. We can't have you leaving the hospital in that gown."

He was already digging through the bag he had brought with him, pulling out a folded pair of clothes. It was a simple outfit—jeans, a soft sweater, and a jacket. He seemed a little unsure about the choice, like he wasn't sure if it was the right thing, but when he handed it to me, I couldn't help but feel a little comforted by his care.

I hesitated, glancing at the clothes in my lap. It wasn't the outfit that bothered me—it was the idea of changing, the idea of being seen as something more than what I'd been in the hospital. What if they looked at me differently when I changed? What if I wasn't the same person I was when I first arrived?

But Raffaele's soft smile and gentle voice cut through my thoughts. "It's just clothes, Emilia. You can do it. You don't have to rush. We're here for you."

Matteo stood up, walking over to the door. "We'll be right outside if you need anything."

I nodded, swallowing back the lump in my throat. Their voices were so soft, so tender. They always treated me like I was fragile. And maybe I was. Maybe I still needed time to rebuild what had been broken.

I slowly stood from the bed, my body protesting as I moved. The pain was sharp, but I pushed through it. The bathroom door clicked shut behind me, and I slowly changed into the clothes Raffaele had chosen. As I adjusted the sweater, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The person looking back at me seemed like a stranger—a girl who had been through so much but was somehow still standing.

The reflection was a reminder of how far I'd come, but also how much further I had to go.

When I opened the bathroom door, I was met with the familiar sight of my brothers. They all turned their heads in unison, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

Matteo's eyes softened immediately, his lips curling into a faint smile. "You look good," he said gently, though his voice was filled with an unspoken tenderness.

Raffaele smiled, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "You're beautiful, Emilia."

Luca's gaze lingered on me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave me a soft nod, as if to reassure me that I was okay. "You look perfect," he said quietly.

I felt a warmth spread through me at their words, though it was hard to process fully. They were so gentle with me—so patient—and I couldn't help but wonder if I deserved this. The thought made my heart flutter with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty.

"We should get you home now, huh?" Matteo said, his voice gentle, yet filled with the quiet authority that seemed to guide everything he did.

I nodded slowly, my heart racing in my chest. The thought of leaving the hospital was still a bit overwhelming, but I knew that with them by my side, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe, just maybe, it could feel like home.

They gathered my things, helping me to the door, and as we made our way down the hall toward the exit, I couldn't help but feel that strange mix of fear and hope that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

I felt like I had spent so much time in that hospital, so much time being poked and prodded by doctors, that the idea of finally going home felt like a dream I didn't quite believe in. But as we left the hospital behind, heading for the private jet, a flutter of nervous energy stirred in my chest. It was supposed to be a relief. But even with the brothers by my side, there was a lingering unease, like I was waiting for something to go wrong.

The car ride to the private airport was quiet. The hum of the engine was calming in a way, but my thoughts were all over the place. What would home be like? Was I ready for this? Could I really leave all the safety I'd built around myself in this sterile, controlled environment?

Luca's hand found mine in the backseat, breaking up my thoughts, I flinched and jerked my hand away. Though I couldn't see his face, I immediately felt guilty knowing I had hurt his feelings. Even though I still couldn't trust him, his presence calmed me, but still, my mind raced. I was moving forward, but my body and my heart felt like they wanted to stay back, in the place where I felt somewhat safe.

"Almost there, little one," Raffaele's voice broke through my thoughts, soft and comforting.

I nodded, trying to steady my breathing. We were close. Soon, we'd be on the jet, and everything would be different. Or maybe it wouldn't. The fear gripped me again. Would I be able to adjust? Would I ever feel like I truly belonged?

As the car pulled up to the small private terminal, I could see the sleek jet sitting on the tarmac, glimmering under the soft afternoon sun. The brothers moved around the car quickly, their motions efficient, but I could see the worry still in their eyes.

They were protective of me, and it felt comforting. It was also overwhelming, but I had to remind myself that I was lucky to have them. Although I felt as if I was beginning to believe they wouldn't hurt me, there was still my instincts telling me otherwise.

The door opened, and Luca was there, extending his hand to me. I flinched at first, then I took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine, and he guided me toward the jet. Matteo and Raffaele followed closely, keeping a watchful eye on everything around us.

Once we entered the jet, the claustrophobic feeling I feared washed over me. The cabin was more spacious than a normal plane, but the thought of being confined to a small space with nowhere to escape felt suffocating.

I sat down, intentionally keeping distance from my brothers. Unfortunately, my plans were spoiled as the four of them moved to sit directly across from me. Mateo reached over to buckle me in, giving me a small smile as he sat back down. My eyes flickered between the four of them, trying to calm the storm swirling in my chest. Matteo was sitting across from me, his brow furrowed as he reviewed something on his phone. Raffaele was next to him, his gaze darting between me and the window.

I looked down at my hands, my fingers trembling slightly, and Luca reached across, placing his hand gently on mine.

"Breathe, Emilia. It's okay," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. He could always make me feel like I wasn't completely alone in the world.

The engines began to roar to life, the vibrations traveling through the floor, and I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the steadiness of Luca's hand in mine. I felt the weight of the plane lifting off the ground, slowly but surely, and the world outside the windows began to shrink away.

I was so nervous. So scared. But I didn't want to show it. Not when I had them here.

I could feel the tension building in my chest, my body wanting to stay in the comfort of the jet, but my mind panicking. I squeezed Luca's hand tightly, trying to ground myself. I wanted to look out the window, to see the world below us, but my eyes kept flickering back to the space between me and my brothers.

The plane was gaining altitude, and I could hear the faint sound of the wind outside as the world below became a blur of lights. My chest tightened, my anxiety clawing at me. I could barely stand the thought of the flight ahead. Being trapped. No way out.

"Hey, it's okay," Raffaele's voice was soft, but I could hear the concern in it. "We're with you. Every step of the way."

I nodded, trying to breathe through the anxiety that constricted my chest, but it wasn't working. The world outside the window felt like it was spinning, and I just wanted to close my eyes, to let the world disappear. But I didn't want to seem weak, not in front of them.

But then I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. Matteo. His touch was firm but comforting, and I looked up at him, his face soft with understanding. I didn't even realize he had switched seats to sit next to me.

"You're safe, Emilia," he said, and I nodded again, though the knot in my stomach didn't loosen.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally gave in to exhaustion. The flight was long, and as the plane cruised smoothly through the sky, I could feel my eyelids drooping.

I let my head fall to the side, and before I knew it, I was fast asleep, the gentle hum of the plane lulling me into a restless slumber.

Luca's POV:

The weight of her in my arms felt different this time. I wasn't used to holding her so close, her body limp with sleep, but there was something reassuring about it. The way she relaxed into me, subconsciously trusting me to hold her, made something tighten in my chest. It was the same feeling I always had when I looked at her—protectiveness, yes, but also a deep sense of wanting to shield her from everything.

The flight had been smooth, thankfully. But I still felt the pull of anxiety in my gut, the worry that she wasn't ready for the transition. She was still fragile, still healing in ways she couldn't yet see. I wanted to believe that she'd be okay. I wanted to believe she would heal, that eventually, she'd feel safe.

But the truth was, she wasn't there yet. And that scared me.

I shifted slightly, adjusting her in my arms as I tried to make her more comfortable. Her head was resting against my chest, and I could feel the warmth of her against me. I held her closer, letting the beat of my heart soothe her.

The others were quiet, their eyes occasionally meeting mine. Matteo was sitting across the aisle, glancing at me before looking out the window. Raffaele, who was still so young but so protective, kept his gaze fixed on Emilia as if afraid she'd wake up and disappear. Nico just looked sad. I couldn't blame him, I could hardly stand too look at her after knowing we failed her,

We were all so focused on her well-being, but sometimes I wondered if we were doing enough. She needed time, more time than any of us could give her.

I would give her the world if it meant making her feel safe again. But for now, all I could do was hold her. Keep her close. Let her know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wasn't alone.

The soft hum of the plane's engines had quieted, and with a slow, steady exhale, I gently shifted Emilia in my arms as the jet came to a stop on the tarmac. She stirred slightly, her face still soft in sleep, her head resting against my chest like it belonged there. The vulnerability in that moment struck me harder than I expected. She was so fragile, so small in my arms.

We'd made it out of the hospital, away from the sterile white walls, but I could feel the weight of her trauma still lingering in the air. Every time I looked down at her, I couldn't help but wonder if she was going to slip away from us, lost to the world that had hurt her so badly before.

The jet door opened, and I rose carefully, adjusting her in my arms so she wouldn't stir too much. She barely moved as I exited, walking into the cool air of the private terminal. Nico was already standing outside, leaning against the sleek black car, waiting for us.

He gave me a respectful nod as we approached, his eyes flicking down to Emilia before settling back on me. It was that unspoken understanding between us. He knew, just like I did, that she was still so far from healed. So much more time was needed. But we'd do this. We'd help her.

I shifted her in my arms, walking toward the car with Nico trailing behind. The car door was already open, the driver waiting for me to settle her inside. As carefully as I could, I helped Emilia into the car, making sure her head rested comfortably against the soft leather seats. I slid in beside her, pulling her onto my lap. She was still asleep, and I couldn't help but watch her face, searching for signs of peace.

The car began moving, and I could feel the slight pull of the road beneath us, but I was so lost in thought that it barely registered. Instead, my gaze was fixed entirely on Emilia's face. She was so still, so trusting in this moment, and it hit me like a wave.

If she woke up right now, this close to me, she would panic. She would flinch, maybe even scramble away from me. The thought clenched my chest, but it was the truth. She wasn't ready to trust me, or any of us, yet.

Her trust had to be earned, and I knew that. She'd been through too much, and she wasn't some fragile doll to be coddled and held together by my affection. But the pain of seeing her so vulnerable, so unaware of the world around her—it hurt. It made me want to hold her forever and never let her go. To shield her from everything. To keep her safe.

I knew, though, that this couldn't be rushed. As much as I wanted her to heal, I understood that real recovery took time. And maybe that was the hardest part—knowing that we could help her, but not fully control how quickly it would happen. Every step forward would come with setbacks, and sometimes, I wasn't sure I'd be strong enough to handle them.

"Luca," Mateo's voice broke through my thoughts, soft and low. "How is she?"

I glanced over at my brothers, Nico's his face impassive as usual, but his eyes were dark with worry. Nico was a master at hiding emotions, but I knew him too well to miss the concern there. But Mateo and Raffaele's faces were full of concern.

"She's doing better, but we both know she's not anywhere near where we want her to be," I said quietly, glancing down at Emilia again. She was still asleep, her face serene in the way only deep sleep could make it, but I could feel the tension in her body even in rest. Her body knew, even when her mind was still caught in the haze of sleep, that the world was still a scary place.

"Too fast, Luca," Nico murmured, glancing at me. "It's too fast. You know she's still terrified. That flinch when you get too close... it's still there."

I nodded, my heart aching at the truth of his words. She still flinched at the slightest touch, still tensed at the sound of footsteps, still had the fear of being hurt again. It was so deeply ingrained in her that it was a reflex, something she couldn't control. And every time she flinched, every time she pulled away from me, it shattered a little piece of my heart.

"I know," I whispered, my voice tight. "She needs more time. But it's hard, Nico. It's hard to watch her suffer like this. It's hard to know that I can't fix it right away. We have to go slow. It feels like we've been going slow, but I know it's not enough."

Nico's eyes softened, and he gave me a slight nod. "She'll come around. But we need to let her set the pace. Not us. We need to be patient. Not force her to take more than she's ready for."

I let out a breath, glancing at Emilia again, studying her face. It was both heartbreaking and beautiful. She was trusting us in ways I couldn't even comprehend, and I couldn't afford to take that for granted.

As we made our way home, I kept my gaze fixed on her. The world outside seemed to blur into nothingness as I lost myself in the sight of her—so peaceful, yet so deeply broken. I wanted to fix it all. I wanted to take all her pain away.

But it wasn't my job to fix her. It was my job to be here for her. To love her through it. To keep her safe.

When the car pulled into the driveway, I didn't rush. I stayed there for a moment, just holding her, listening to the gentle rhythm of her breathing, before I slid out of the car and carefully lifted her into my arms once more.

Our guards opened the doors to our mansion, offering respectful nods as we walked inside.

I continued to walk straight upstairs, telling my brothers to stay in the living room.

I walked down the hallway until I reached the door with the name Emilia engraved on it. As I opened the door I I was hit with a sense of nostalgia.

Our brothers and I came to the agreement that no one would enter her room while she was gone. The pain just too unbearable for us to bear.

As I set her gently on the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding her into them. I kissed her forehead whispering, "I'm so sorry, bambina. You will never know how much I love you and how sorry I am I couldn't protect you. I'll make it right I swear it upon my life."